


Getting There Slowly

by aquanort



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquanort/pseuds/aquanort





	Getting There Slowly

Things won’t ever go back to normal. They _can’t_ go back to normal. Lea and Isa have seen things they can’t unsee. _Done_ things they can’t undo. Done things to each other, even, that they avoid talking about, but it still pains them to look each other in the eyes sometimes. And Isa....Isa has felt something the likes of which Lea will never be able to understand no matter how much he tries. No amount of listening and caring can help him understand what it’s like to be a prisoner in your own mind and body for years.

Isa still wakes frequently with nightmares. Six months after Xehanort’s defeat, and he’s still yet to make it a full night without one. Lea can sense it nowadays, when Isa is about to wake up, and he wakes up first, listens to Isa’s breathing grow heavier and quicker until he finally wakes with a gasp. After waking, he always tries to be still and silent, but he trembles, and he won’t let Lea touch him. Lea learned the hard way to stop trying to so much as pat his shoulder. The night Isa accidentally split Lea’s lip open, his own steely facade split too for the first time in months, and he apologized for days, long after it had healed, though Lea insisted it wasn’t necessary, and said (only half-jokingly) that it probably hurt Isa more than it hurt him. Regardless, he keeps his hands to himself now.

Tonight is another one. Lea has awoken inexplicably, and he knows right away that Isa must be about to wake from a nightmare. The sheets are hot and sticky with Isa’s sweat and he’s muttering a bit. Slowly, without moving the bed too much, Lea gets up and tiptoes around the bed to sit in the chair in front of Isa’s side. He clicks on the electric kettle on the nightstand they bought last month, then grabs a mug and tea bag from the cabinet underneath. Tea calms Isa down from his nightmares, but they learned, again, the hard way, the worst case scenario is for Lea to be missing when Isa wakes, so they’ve set up this little tea stand beside the bed so he doesn't have to go all the way downstairs. Isa called the idea childish and shameful, but Lea insisted it was cute and useful. It wasn’t until he pointed out that Isa needs to work on his ability to accept assistance when it’s offered that Isa finally gave in.

The water is almost boiling by the time Isa startles awake. His eyes snap open and the first thing he sees is Lea, forcing a smile, sitting beside him. His breathing begins to slow immediately and he drags himself upright as quickly as he can manage. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them; that’s new. They both know it’s new but Lea doesn’t ask. Then he notices, barely visible in the moonlit room, shiny trails making their way down Isa’s cheeks. His chest tightens and he swallows, throat dry. This is new too.

Still, he waits for Isa to say something first. He can be a bit unpredictable when he’s like this and Lea doesn’t want to upset him further. They sit silently for a minute. Then—

“Do we have sugar?”

Lea blinks.

 

“Oh, for...for the tea? Yeah, not up here though.” He eyes Isa for his reaction. “I’ll have to go downstairs for it. Is that okay?”

Isa nods stoically. Lea gets up and heads downstairs, quickly grabbing some sugar and a spoon from the cabinet and heading back up. Isa has a bit of a sweet tooth, but he usually drinks his tea plain. Just what sort of dream did he have?

When Lea gets upstairs, Isa is not in bed, the bathroom door is shut with the light on, and Lea's blood runs cold as he realizes Isa didn’t really want sugar for the tea after all. He sets the sugar on the nightstand and darts to the bathroom to knock on the door.

“Isa? You okay?”

No answer.

Lea hears the shower running behind the door. He tries the handle -- locked, as expected, so he quickly grabs a hairpin off the dresser and begins picking the lock.

"Isa, answer me, please," he calls out as he works but there is no sound other than the water running. Lea's heartbeat is pounding his ears when he finally gets the door open and his eyes snap to Isa, who is leaning over the sink toward the mirror, back to Lea, one hand raised to his face, the other gripping the sink with white knuckles.

"Isa! Stop! What are you doing?" Lea hears his own voice come from his mouth but he doesn't remember speaking. His eyes are fixed on the pair of silver scissors in Isa's hand and the rivulet of blood running down his cheek and dripping into the sink. Isa jumps at his voice and looks around at Lea, who is across the room in an instant, wrenching the scissors from Isa's hand and letting them clatter in the sink, pulling him into a tight hug, sobbing into his shoulder. The shower is still running.

It feels simultaneously like an instant and an eternity later when Lea finally manages to pull back from the hug and cups Isa's face in his hands. He's made a deep, ragged slice under his eye right along the tip of the x-shaped scar on his face, as though he was trying to cut it out of his skin. Isa is crying again, too, Lea realizes, and the pained look on his face has nothing to do with the bleeding gash. He lets Lea sit him down on the edge of the bathtub and turn the shower off before getting the first aid kit from under the sink.

"Looks like you won't need stitches at least..." Lea mutters as he dabs antiseptic onto the wound. It should sting, but Isa doesn't even flinch.

"This is your fault."

Lea's hand freezes. Isa's voice and eyes are suddenly full of venom, his tears now hot and angry. Lea meets his gaze with some difficulty. His voice wavers when he speaks.

"Yeah. I know. I’m...I’m sorry."

The words are woefully inadequate and they both know it, but this is still the first time Lea has said them. Isa's anger turns briefly to shock before the blank expression is back again and his gaze drops to the floor. Lea puts a bandage on the wound and washes the scissors, washes the sink, and washes the blood off his hands, but he can still feel it there. He's always felt it. Even back when they were in the Organization, he knew, it was all his fault. He takes Isa's cold hands into his own burning ones and pulls him to his feet, leads him out into the bedroom and sits him on the bed, then sits himself on the chair beside it. The tea has now cooled to a drinkable temperature, and Lea gingerly hands Isa the mug, who gratefully wraps his chilly fingers around it and stares into it.

"...I love you."

"I love you too, Isa."

"I don't forgive you."

"That's okay."

Isa shoots him a dirty look, as if to condemn him for being so damn understanding, then takes a sip of the tea.

"I was serious about the sugar."

".....Oh. Uh. Here, let me, uh..."

He takes the mug from Isa and stirs in a spoonful before handing it back. Isa slowly drinks it while Lea sits there picking at the skin beside his fingernails, then pulling at the loose threads in his sleeves. Isa sets the empty mug back on the nightstand and sighs heavily.

“I hope nights around here are warmer in the summer. I’d like to know what it’s like to not be a popsicle in my own bed.”

Lea looks up and his heart skips a beat when he sees Isa looking at him, not with the same blank expression he always wears, but almost...softly. He tries not to trip over his own feet as he scrambles around the bed to hop back into it beside Isa, and within moments he’s all but clinging to Isa, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face buried in the crook of his neck, legs intertwined. He feels Isa’s fingers comb gently into his hair and brush against his scalp and his breath hitches.

“I’m sorry, Isa. I abandoned you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, Lea. I love you. Now stop that, you’re going to get my shirt wet.”

“Ah, sorry, it’s already wet. Maybe you should take it off.”

“Idiot. Go to sleep.”


End file.
